by Lisa Daniels
His mint scent flared up her excitement further, and her heart raced so fast that Frey thought it would thunder out of her chest. The excitement transformed into climax as the endorphins rushed through her body, illuminating all her cells like the fairy lights of a Christmas tree.
Yanus growled pleasure at her orgasm, coming rapidly after her, his chest squashed against hers as the momentum gradually stopped.
Frey helped roll him to the side, grinning like an idiot, giving herself a moment to drown in his beautiful green eyes.
He matched her happiness, and cupped her cheek with one hand, trying to ease his breathing.
“You're worth it, you know,” he said, face and tone serious. “Someone like you should never have to worry about not being loved.”
“I don't worry about that,” Frey said, with a soft smile. “Though I used to.”
“Right.” Yanus touched his lips with hers, breathing warm, gentle air onto her mouth. “Something drives you, though. I can tell. It makes you powerful, and I can sense that power. It makes you desirable.” The kiss ramped up a notch, and all sorts of pleasant, floaty feelings undulated.
Frey draped one leg over his, hooking him closer. “I drive myself. It's simple, really. If something isn't happening, then you make it happen. I learned that a long time ago. We always have choices. Even if we don't always realize them.”
For Frey, life was a choice. Even if you came into it without one.
People always held power over their actions. As long as they remained honest to themselves and never lied about motivations, choices or actions – life had a way of working out.
“Perhaps. To think someone like you could be lurking in the forgotten corners of a small town in a tiny part of the world...” Yanus fell silent. Something sad crossed his eyes. “We need more time. I don't want to leave just yet.”
“You'll get it,” Frey said, her heart swelling, settling into a relaxed embrace. “We'll give you as much time as we can.”
“I mean,” Yanus said, voice hoarse, “with you. I need more time with you. If I go to America with this Markus, you would still want to remain here, right? Running this place with your brother?”
Frey's emotions gave a strange lurch, and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Did he really like her enough to take things further? Had he actually meant it when he dropped the phrase mate around her ears?
“I would. Unless things get funky, and we'd have no choice. There's not many werewolf friendly sanctuaries in Bulgaria, so we have a niche here.”
“Shame,” Yanus murmured. “But, maybe we can sort something out.”
Frey smiled, and a tear formed behind her eyelids. “Maybe.”
Falling asleep in his strong arms, Frey saw the threads of a new future unfolding before her, deviating from her former plans.
Maybe she didn't have to be the constant guardian of Evo, after all. Maybe she could find love, companionship, and a family in someone else, and create a new family.
Chapter Five
Waking up brought sunlight and the face of Yanus sleeping beside Frey. Smiling, she stretched, kissed him gently, and got out of bed, getting dressed. She felt more content and relaxed than she had for a long time, since the stress of home life and the jealously from the undivided attention Evo received – offset by their time spent together. After her father's death, she thought her quality of life would improve, now her mother no longer had someone telling her how to think.
Instead, her mother did a good job of destroying her body and mind through drink.
It meant that Frey, as much as she wanted to live the childhood she never had – could never experience it.
She had lost it forever.
She examined Yanus, the light casting shadows on his delicate cheekbone. From their first time sharing a bed together, a week had passed. One week of passion, fun and concern, and for sharing the secrets locked up in their hearts. Yanus learned that his brother, two years younger, had been named heir.
Because of his persistence in sheltering the runaway wife, and for the odd disappearance of the Koroslav, he had dissolved to nothing in their eyes.
Frey understood that feeling only too well, of what it was to be nothing, to be discarded and hated when you did nothing wrong except to be born, and to do what you believed was right.
She smacked her lips, an odd, metallic taste lingering there, along with a faint sense of nausea – which she sometimes felt if she got up too fast. The metallic taste made her feel like she had been sucking on a coin, and she went to wash out the flavor with a glass of water.
She found Evo lounging with Luelle in the main bar, chatting quietly, both at ease in one another's presence.
Wouldn't it be funny, Frey thought, if they dated each other as well? Wouldn't that be such a strange twist of fate? The idea delighted her, and lit a warm hearth in her chest. Wouldn't that feel like fate, indeed?
Not that she was one for believing fate had a hand in the lives of people. People made their own fates.
Evo and Luelle jumped when a banging noise came from the hotel entrance.
Instantly, Frey cursed the fact she'd been negligent in leaving her Taurus upstairs, instead of automatically carrying it with her wherever she went.
It could be the police, it could be wolves.
It could be trouble.
“Hide. Now.” Frey dashed to Luelle, bundling her with Evo to the stairs. “I'm grabbing my gun.”
“It might not be anything bad,” Luelle said, doubtful, fear clouding her eyes.
“Yeah, well, we're not taking chances.”
Yanus blinked sleepily as Luelle was tossed into his room. “Wha – ?”
Frey reached for her Taurus, and Yanus suddenly became wide awake, his green eyes glowing. Frey placed a finger to her lips before bounding downstairs with her brother, even as the pounding continued to echo through the entrance.
By the door, Evo called, “Who is it? Who is knocking so early in the morning?”
“Elinor,” a muffled voice responded. “Elinor Spirova.”
Frey shivered fear. Fuck. One of the ancient families.
“Why are you here? Tell us, please!” Evo bit back a growl.
“Because I need to talk to you. I'm alone. You may be in grave trouble.”
Evo stared wildly at Frey, who shrugged, mouthing “Can we trust her?”
“What trouble? And how do you know the trouble will be here?”
“A vengeance party is coming. Whatever happened with you guys, you didn't clean up well enough. The Koroslavs know their son is dead. They know one of the Armanev sons is hiding Luelle – because some idiot sent a text message to his parents. And if you remember, they have a Koroslav relative in the family.”
Oh, shit. I remember that message! “Why are you telling us this?”
Elinor scratched at the door, her powerful, deep voice reverberating through Frey's ears. “Because three Russian clans have decided to cross into Bulgaria and they've slaughtered members of my pack in the surrounding towns. They're infecting humans, breaking our laws. And they're going to march right up to the seat of power and demand for Luelle, or a blood vengeance. Given their frenzy, even if we offer Luelle, they might just decide to screw us over anyway. We will look ripe for the picking to them.”
At this, Frey opened the door, revealing a tall, Valkyrie of a woman, dark yellow eyes resplendent in her face. She looked like a product of the mountains, a child raised with the knowledge of the cold and the dark. Every inch an Alpha.
Elinor nodded, her lips curling in a snarl. “We need every fighter we can get. And we may need this place to become a hospital and refuge. I'll post some steep protection in this town. As for Luelle, because I know she's probably here...” Elinor strode in, sniffing the air. “Yes, I smell her. You'll need to take her with my brother Markus, to his place in America. However, he's not going to be going back to America straight away. He's here to kill Ricten Spirova.”
Frey blinked. “Markus Spir
ova... kill... Ricten Spirova?”
“Ricten is a mad dog. He should have been put down years ago. He's the same ilk as the Lubanovs, and we all know what happened to them.”
Frey sighed, heading to a chair and sitting in it. “This is fucked up. I don't even know what to do.”
Elinor ignored her, now prowling around the hotel to check the rooms. Her short, dark blonde hair tufted around the collar of her jacket. Evo and Frey followed after the Alpha, who nodded in approval at the rooms. “Yes. This will be a good base.”
Finally, she walked into the room with Luelle and Yanus Armanev, who both growled at her as she entered. With a vicious bark and a flash of yellow eyes, her presence cowered the wolf in Luelle, but rankled the one in Yanus. He stood up, matching the snarl, his teeth sharpening, hairs beginning to form on his hands.
“You still have bite. Good,” Elinor spat. A smile covered her contorted features. “You'll need it.” She glided out of the room, closely followed by Evo.
Yanus blinked in utter confusion, the ferocity dissipating from his face. “What? What the hell was that?”
Frey flumped on the bed beside him. “Trouble.” Frey stared at the empty corridor, where Elinor and Evo had gone.
“Why is she here?”
“Trouble,” Frey repeated. She explained about the Russian clans, the message Yanus had sent to his family which resulted in the knowledge passing on. He started trembling in guilt and frustration, and Frey clutched his hand tightly.
“It will be okay. We'll get through this. We'll protect your sister.”
“If they kill my whole family because of this...” Yanus squeezed her hand, almost crushing the bones in it. Frey endured, hissing deeply.
“We'll get through it.”
Luelle, sensing that they needed a moment, made her excuses and departed from the room, leaving Frey and Yanus alone.
“Frey. I'm so sorry. We brought this on you.”
“Don't be sorry. We chose to take you in. We chose to help.”
Yanus pulled her in close, transitioning from crushing the bones in her hand to squishing the air out of her lungs. “Thank you.”
“No problem. We're in this together.”
“I love you,” he whispered into Frey's ear, then making her gasp in surprise.
Whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. She pulled back from the hug to stare into his haunting green eyes, her heart thumping painfully.
“Didn't think you'd ever hear those words, did you?” He said slyly, some of his fear turning into amusement.
Frey merely shook her head, speechless, before finally rasping, “We're probably all gonna die due to rabid Russian werewolves and you decide now that this is a good time to say something like that?”
“Better before we die. And you're certainly a one of a kind woman.”
“Fuck,” Frey said. She lay on the bed, happy and despairing at the same time. “Fuck you.”
“Gladly,” Yanus said, grinning.
Frey laughed, placing an arm over her eyes. To hear someone say those words to her and mean it, it melted all the hard points over her heart. It pissed her off as well, because she knew that things were likely going to go to shit in the next few weeks, and Yanus needed to disappear to America with Luelle.
Maybe she should go with him. Would her little brother come? Would he stay?
She thought about his affection toward Luelle.
Steel entered her resolve.
For better or for worse, it seemed the Radev siblings had twisted their lives with the Armanev ones.
Where Yanus went, she would follow. She reached for his hand again, and held it gently. “I'm with you. Whatever happens. Wherever you go.”
Lips brushed her cheek. “I'm counting on it.”
The End
Rose’s Mate
Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline
Prologue
She ran for her life, her breath huffing in the cold night. She shot past streetlamps, lonely buildings and abandoned machinery, her hairy feet pounding the concrete. Her enhanced sight alighted on shapes within the blackness, shapes that pursued her.
Her breathing became manic, panicked. She didn't just fear for her life. She feared for the little one, bundled in her arms, eyes squinted as he stared up at his mother, not yet scared or wailing, just curious. The rocking motion of her gait actually helped lull him into a sleepy yawn. The bundles protected him against the cold whip of wind, and all she could do was pray, and hope that she might escape.
Without her arms swinging like pistons at her sides, she couldn't run as fast as normal. She loped, sometimes swerved, sometimes risked leaps, all the while listening for her pursuers.
They would want her back. They desired the child in her arms. Her thoughts slid to the Basement, and terror froze her brain for a moment, before the adrenaline kicked the fear aside into something manageable.
She never, ever wanted to return to the Basement again. Not to that place where women suffered and where their plaintive cries rent the night, heard only by uncaring ears, of those who drank in pain like food and water, who practised their distorted perceptions of an ideal life.
Ideal! Chains were their ideal. Producing offspring from suffering and hate filled them with sadistic joy. They were so careful, too, picking people no one would miss. Human girls without passports, women trafficked from seedy regions and red-light districts to the Basement.
How they rejoiced when she had been delivered into their midst. How they trapped her in their web of evil, knowing she wouldn't be missed, because everyone thought her dead, like the rest of her clan. The others had descended upon her family with the ferocity of the Devil, leaving her with nothing but hatred and seeping darkness in her heart.
Now, she didn't know where to go, where to run, except that this child of hers couldn't be left to that fucked-up cult, to be raised in their insane and depraved image, without the chance of learning how to live a happy and decent life. And perhaps, in turn, making others suffer as she had suffered when reaching prime age.
Never again. The cycle needed to break, to wrench itself from the shackles of the past, and the perpetration of limitless evil.
Never again.
If she was lucky, she'd be killed. That Gregorovitch who had been asking around for her – she knew he wanted her dead, too. Just like her family.
The baby in her arms, nameless, because she feared his death in the first early weeks of his life, blinked at her with yellow and blue eyes. He had the gift. Once he had weaned himself off her milk, the babe would disappear forever into the cracks of evil.
Ivelina ran, gasping as she did so, her breath harsh and sobbing as she sprinted through the night.
Half an hour went without any glimpse or scent of the others. In a flash, she morphed back into her human form, before pounding upon the door of a random house. She pounded and pounded until the light came on, and someone peered cautiously through the curtains. Their eyes widened at the sight of her as a filthy mess, clutching the baby tight.
They opened the door, and Ivelina saw a young woman, likely a student, in her pajamas, with a scruff of red hair, concern and anxiety etched upon her pretty features.
Ivelina started talking to the girl, but the girl replied in English, shaking her head and holding up her hands.
Ivelina switched. “Take baby. Please. Protect him. Have money.” She dug into her baggy robes, and dropped dozens of notes onto the floor of the astonished woman. “Take him. Keep him safe. I have to go.”
Without giving the woman any time to protest, Ivelina placed the baby at her feet. Then, with a heart-wrenching sob of anger and bitterness, she went back the way she came. To lure her chasers away.
The look of horror and confusion on the girl's face might have made her laugh at one time. No more laughter existed for Ivelina these days.
There was only darkness.
Chapter One
Rose Talbot didn't expect the knock, or the random baby. That st
range, desperate woman who begged and pleaded for her to protect the baby, before dashing off into the night, left many questions lodged in Rose's skull, and more than just a passing sensation of hysteria. It wasn't like Rose knew how to rear a baby, either, and she certainly couldn't produce milk. The only real option would be to give the thing to the authorities. She had scooped it up from the doorstep after a few fruitless attempts to call the woman back. The crazy, matted individual had well and truly vanished into the unknown, and Rose didn't fancy the idea of chasing after her in the dead of night.
She placed the baby on the table, and tried calming herself down with a drink of water and a snack whilst she figured out what the hell she was supposed to do with it. She scooped up the money as well, not bothering to flick through it, preoccupied with bigger, pressing concerns.
I have no idea what the fuck just happened. The woman's frantic, ravaged look sprang to Rose's mind. She looked like the product of someone wasted by years of drug abuse.
Have they just dumped me with some unwanted baby? Is this how people in Bulgaria get rid of their newborns? Instead of throwing one in the trash, just throw it at someone's door for all the Vernon and Petunia Dursleys of the world to take it in?
She stared at the baby for a little while longer, heart tap dancing in trepidation, because damnit, she was a student, not a baby farmer.
Imagine explaining this to her family back home in America. Hey mom, I just want you to know that some crazy Bulgarian lady threw this baby at me and asked me to look after it and left a massive wad of cash on my doorstep.
The cash was nice, of course, though Rose saw it more as blood money than something useful. The last thing you wanted or needed when studying in another country was to draw attention to yourself.
For all Rose knew, the baby was the result of some Mafia hit-and-run, and by carrying the kid, she'd be right in their cross-hairs.
Fuck me, then. She examined the chubby, snuffling baby. He opened his eyes and blinked at her with peculiar-colored irises – one yellow, one blue. She had never seen a human with a yellow eye before, and it looked creepy.
